


our son keefe ? oh he moved to austin

by LinhamonRoll



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Adoption, Basically, Cassius Sencen's A+ Prenting, Found Family, Gen, Gisela Sencen A+ Parenting, Homelessness, Keefe Sencen In The Forbidden Cities, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, i give keefe the dad and big sister he deserves in the forbidden cities, might also give him a mom who knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinhamonRoll/pseuds/LinhamonRoll
Summary: keefe had no idea what he was doing when he ran away. he wasnt exaclty expecting to find a family along the way.
Relationships: Keefe Sencen & Cassius Sencen, Keefe Sencen & Gisela Sencen, Keefe Sencen & Original Female Character, Keefe Sencen & Original Male Character
Kudos: 11





	our son keefe ? oh he moved to austin

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone ! if you follow me on tumblr, you know ive been tlaking about this for a while now. its a headcanon that is very important to me, and i finally got the motivation to write it, after watching too many block men videos, of all things. this isnt really prewritten , so expect me to take at least a week between updates, but i plan on actually writing this to the end. 
> 
> tws for panic attacks and suicidal thought, but i will put specific warnings in the begining of chapters. 
> 
> enjoy !
> 
> tw very vaguely suicidal thoughts in the first chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for very vaguely suicidal thoughts

Keefe knew he'd fucked up the moment he realized he had nowhere to go.

The plan had been… it hadn't even really been a plan. What had he been thinking, when he'd decided the best solution was to write an ominous note, grab a crystal, and leap, never coming back ? or right. He hadn't been. He wished that for once in his life he'd actually sat down and planned ahead.

Instead, he'd left the only place he'd dare call a home, or at least he thought could have become one, in time, and gone to… he didn't even know _where_ he'd gone. All he knew was that while Elwin’s place had been warm, and it had been daytime, wherever he'd landed was cold, and dark.

If it had been a story, he'd have laughed at the “coincidence”, or the attempt at poetry or some shit when it started raining.

As it was, he just pulled his cape a little tighter around him.

.

He walked. Where to, he had no clue. Somewhere to sleep, or something to eat, he supposed, but he also knew there was no way he could get either of these things. He hadn't even gotten money, or human clothes, for fucks sake.

He could do without sleep. He had, already, when he was at the Neverseen, and it wouldn't be too hard to do it again, right ? right ? right.  
And so he did. He didn't sleep that night, instead wandering the streets, memorizing the city he was stuck in for until his mother would find him. She always did, in the end. Maybe she already knew, always two steps ahead. It didn't matter. He didn't sleep the next two nights either. 

Eventually, he found a building that left its bike shack open. It wasn't comfortable by any means, the ground was hard, and he found himself shivering more often than not, but it was dry, and the wind mostly didn't get in. He learned the hard way that he didn't want to be there by morning, when the landlord checked in.

It was with a few more bruises that he took of again to find a garage, or shed, or anything that had a semblance of a roof.

.

He barely avoided a few run-ins with the police, when someone would see him camping on the porch of their neighbors that had just left on vacations, or when he got a little too careless grabbing the last box of pasta on the shelf on the deli nearby. Sometimes, he ran and got away easily. Sometimes it got much, much too close.

He'd just found a new place he could stay at, maybe. The parking lot was closed for reparations, and the ticket booth hadn't been locked yet. It seemed too good to be true.

He hadn't counted on the workers being here early.

Saying the manager was pissed when he found him was an understatement. He grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him up, and all but threw him on the wall. He yelled at him. what, Keefe wasn't entirely sure, not awake enough to register half of what was said.

The police was called, and Keefe was stuck.

He couldn't run, not with the men still watching him, and he couldn’t pass as an adult either. He didn't smell of booze and couldn't fake a hungover. He was well, and absolutely fucked.

For the first time since he'd left, he'd used is voice.

He didn't think he'd ever stop thinking about their faces when they couldn't do anything but breath.

It was for the better he told himself. If the police had caught him, without an id, looking like a 14 years old, he was fucked. He thought he could have pulled of passing as a young adult, before, when he'd been here for only a few days, but by now, he'd turned into a walking stick.

They weren't dumb. If they saw a kid with only his skin on his bones, alone and homeless, they'd try to find his parents, try to make him explain who he was, and he wouldn't have anything to tell them. And if he'd learned one thing from the movies Sophie had shown them is that he really, really didn't want that. 

.

So he found another place to sleep, and wondered why other people managed to find a place to stay when he didn't. He saw them, sometimes, people barely older than he was. They'd appear, one day, make a place for themselves, and in a few weeks they were gone.

He only understood they didn't get lucky when he had the bad luck of stumbling into an alleyway after getting thrown off the bench he was sleeping on.

He saw them, doing things he'd never dare to, to get off the streets, get a better life, and he emptied what little he had in his stomach.

If he died, he died. Maybe he was a coward, but he didn't care enough to make this sacrifice and get away. 

.

A lady threw a bunch of coins at him. The sound woke him up. He looked at her, and she had the same face his father had whenever he'd compliment his grades to his friends, disgust barely hidden.

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation finally getting to him, or maybe it was out of spite, but he decided there had to be a way. There had to be a way he could get out of this. He left, because he didn't want to hurt people. That was the main reason. But he also left because h wanted to be happy, and he didn't think he could do that with the shadow of the war looming over him, and the knowledge that he'd cause it.

He was the furthest thing from happy.

Living off of stale pastries from the bakery around the corner was well and all, but he couldn't do that all his life. He needed to *move*, do something, anything, before he froze to death or some rando decided his shoes were worth more than his life.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed !
> 
> come scream at me on tumblr, @linhamon-roll


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